The Edge of the End of the World
by darylsdiva1
Summary: 7:10: Missing moments fic. Caryl. A while back I got a special request to write my version of what happened between the time Daryl arrived at the creepy house in full daylight and when we saw Carol sitting in front of the fire cooking his dinner after night had fallen. This is it!


_I tried to account for all of the objects in the room that were never explained, like the gauze dressing on the table next to Daryl, how the Denim Dreams book got back onto the bookshelf by the fireplace, the Cherokee Rose looking painting behind the table on the wall, the fact that Carol didn't offer him any of the cobbler Jerry brought her as dessert (LOL!), and of course the seeming huge time jump between Daryl's arrival and departure._

 _Yes, I have watched this episode WAY too many times!_

* * *

 _The Edge of the End of the World_

It hurt to hold her.

It hurt his heart to see her because he was angry with her for leaving him while at the same time he was weak kneed with relief to find her alive and well after Richard's threats. He held her for a brief perfect moment, but then pushed her away.

" _How?"_ she asked, dazed, tears running down her soft cheeks. How could he possibly be standing there on her porch? How had he found her after everything? How did they _keep_ finding each other?

"Jesus took us to the Kingdom. Morgan said you just left. I was out here and I saw you." He said haltingly, then his voice turned plaintive, broken, _"Why'd you go?"_

" _I had to."_ she told him, her voice almost a whisper, tears streaming down her face.

Daryl stepped back, looking away, unable to hide his hurt.

"You're bleeding." she cried, stepping forward and lifting her hand to the open neck of his shirt, pushing the dark cloth back from the white gauze dressing over his shoulder, bright fresh blood seeping through.

Daryl shied back but she held onto the shirt. His scuffle with Richard earlier must have opened the stitches the Sanctuary doctor had given him. It was either that or because he'd held her so tightly...

"Come inside and let me take a look at it." Carol ordered, all business now.

Daryl leveled a squinty-eyed stare at her, one that never failed to intimidate most people, but Carol? Carol raised her chin and fucking _smiled_ at him, just a slight upraising of one side of her sweet lips and a dimple to punctuate it, but it was a smile.

"Please?" Carol added more softly, her eyes warm but a bit unsure. She knew he'd been hurt by what she'd done in leaving.

Daryl held her gaze for a long moment and then ducked his head in a quick nod.

Carol released him so he could follow her inside. She bent to grab a back pack off the floor just inside the door and set it on the table. She withdrew a bottle of rubbing alcohol, flesh colored medical tape and a prepackaged dressing about 4 inches square, like the one already covering his wound. He also saw other first aid supplies, survival gear, rolled clothing and a tattered looking book inside the still open bag.

He should have known she was ready to bolt again at a moment's notice.

"Sit." she said, nodding at the chair at the far end of the table.

He did, with a grunt of suppressed pain. The hot shower this morning in his Kingdom digs had helped, but he still felt every one of the wounds, bumps and bruises from the last weeks. Since meeting the Saviors he'd been run off the road and wrecked his bike, been stabbed, shot, stripped, tortured and had the shit kicked out of him by a gang of goons and a wanna be martyr, not to mention getting mind fucked by a master.

Carol looked him over, and realizing that his knuckles were cut up and swollen as well, made a little noise of distress, put down the bottle and dressing package and took his hands in hers.

"What did you do?" she asked him, lifting his hands.

"Had a difference of opinion with an asshole." Daryl drawled evasively.

Carol stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn't, she rolled her eyes and pointed at him.

"Stay right there." she ordered and left him to go to what he assumed was the kitchen, passing through a door to their right past the fireplace and couch.

Daryl's gaze followed her path, looking around the room and saw an open book lying on the arm of the couch, cover up, and he reached over and snagged it. _Some damn romance novel..._

When Carol came back through the door carrying a basin, soap and a washcloth, Daryl gave her a raised eye-brow look. She gave him a lip pursed one back as she set the supplies she carried down on the table and plucked the book from his hands.

Without a word she walked over to the bookshelf next to the fireplace and slid it in between several others of the same type and then gave him a look that dared him to say something.

Daryl just shrugged. He did know how to keep his mouth shut, sometimes.

Carol gave him a little smile and took the tea kettle off the grate in the fireplace. She carried it over and poured the hot in with the cooler water already in the basin, soaking the washcloth in the warmed water before soaping it.

As she gently washed the blood and grime off his hands Daryl felt a wave of something pass through him; he felt cared for _,_ soothed by her touch, calmed, but it was more than that. Others had taken care of him, seen to his wounds before, but _her_ touch was special.

Daryl winced as she cleaned his knuckles with the alcohol and she gave his hand a squeeze in apology. He squeezed back...it was almost like they were holding hands.

"I need to see it." she said, releasing his hand and pointing towards his shirt.

A wave of what looked like shyness passed over him and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked down at his fidgeting hands.

"Daryl, I've seen you without your shirt on before." Carol said with a hint of teasing amusement, a tiny glimpse of her old self. "Humor me and I'll cook you dinner. Your favorite—squirrel stew."

Since he'd spent much of the last weeks naked and bloody in a pitch black cell eating dog food paté sammies and listening to the most god awful song in the world, he couldn't stop the snorting chuckle that bubbled up. Squirrel stew a la Carol sounded _damn_ good.

"Shot it yerself did ya?" he looked at her in an amused squint, lifting his hands to start unbuttoning his shirt.

"Snare actually." Carol said matter-of-factly, putting the bottle and gauze packet on the table. "They dig up my garden looking for their nuts, little buggers." then she stared him down, daring him to make a comment.

"Don't know who they're messin' with." Daryl said approvingly, sliding the shirt off his shoulder so she could do her work.

Carol scowled at the blood soaked bandage and then leaned in and started prying up the edges, the tape and gauze pulling on skin and hair adhered to it by dried blood and he hissed at the bright sharp pain.

"Watch it—I got stitches." he cautioned her, throwing them back into another moment, a turning point for them from what seemed like a lifetime ago.

Carol's hands hesitated in their work and instead reached up to push his hair back from his forehead, searching for the spot where she'd first kissed him in thanks for what he'd done for her daughter.

Daryl held still, closing his eyes, so many moments between them flashing through his mind, all the times he thought he'd lost her. Every reunion. Every opportunity squandered. When her lips brushed his brow he sighed and she took that as encouragement, cradling his face in her hands.

Carol leaned her forehead on his.

Daryl's trembling hands came up to rest on her waist.

They lived at the edge of the end of the world.

There was no place left for _what if_ and _almost_.

She knew he couldn't stay.

He knew she couldn't come with him.

So they stole this time before the words that would come between them later: her questions and his lies.

If you'd have asked them, neither would have been able to say why this time was different, it just was. They knew death was always just around the corner, that it might be the last time they saw each other. Maybe it was what they'd suffered separately in their time apart; maybe it was the simple realization that they both wanted the same thing.

Daryl canted his face to the side and lifted his chin just as Carol found his lips with hers, seamless, effortless, as if they'd done it a thousand times instead of never before. His hands on her waist flexed and he gave a low growl of pleasure, deepening the kiss, her taste intoxicating, sweet pomegranate and peach.

Carol let him pull her closer, onto his lap, one of her hands moving to wind in his unruly hair, keeping his mouth on hers. There was nothing tentative in the way they kissed, only a rightness, a coming home long denied. Her other hand spread over his cheek and jaw, palm and finger tips scratching against his scruff.

Daryl groaned and gripped the back of the baggy shirt she wore over a tee, pulling it up slowly, giving her a chance to object.

Carol broke the kiss, both of them working to catch their breath. She ran her thumb over his kiss swollen lips while she stared into his eyes, pupils wide with desire. Bracing both hands on his shoulders she stood, and confused, Daryl frowned but released her, leaning back in the chair as she dropped her hands to her sides.

Carol took a step back and then held out her right hand.

Neither of them spoke.

Daryl put his hand in hers and stood, letting her lead, moving through the adjoining open doorway. The sparsely furnished room had a braided rug covering the hardwood floor, a low dresser, a nightstand with an oil lamp, candles, matches and a book atop it. The full size bed was neatly made and covered with an old heirloom quilt. The 'wedding ring' pattern of interlocking circles had probably been lovingly stitched for some girl's hope chest.

Hope.

That's what Carol was to him.

She'd hauled him back from the edge more than once; he wanted to do the same for her... if she'd let him...

Carol released his hand and carefully folded the quilt back, her neatness even in this making the corner of Daryl's mouth curl up in a small smile. When she turned back towards him he saw the flush on her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes from their kisses hadn't faded. She was so lovely it made him start to lift his thumbnail to his mouth to try and cope with the overwhelming emotions he was feeling.

Instead Carol reached for and snagged his hand short of its mark so Daryl lifted her smaller one instead, rubbing her knuckles back and forth across his lips, the repetitive motion soothing him. She smiled at him and tugged him back towards the bed, sitting and waiting for him to sit beside her.

When he didn't, she released his hand and reached down to take off her boots, letting them fall to the floor with a clunk and then looked at him expectantly.

Daryl was frozen in place, watching her. When he didn't follow suit and start undressing she gave him a challenging stare and pulled her baggy blouse off. Now he saw the trench knife she wore at her waist, t-shirt pulled behind it, and also the outline of her breasts, which rose and fell rapidly despite her outer show of calm. He missed the tank tops she'd worn at the prison, all that lightly freckled skin he ached to run his hands and tongue over...

Carol took off the knife and laid it on the nightstand and lifted the hem of the tee raising it slowly, her eyes challenging him. Then she lifted it over her head, baring all that soft skin to his eyes...

 _Shit._

Daryl's fingers fumbled with his shirt buttons so much he finally just ripped it off over his head and left it where it fell as he toed off his boots and then started on his belt, then the button and zipper of his jeans, lowering them, forgetting the shoelace ties wound tight around his pants from calf to ankle on each leg.

 _Shit._

Carol swiftly rose and then knelt at his feet, working the tick guard ties that he had started wearing as they wandered through the woods of Georgia to Virginia. Her hands were gentle as she held him still and unwound the laces. She was taking care of him, like always.

Pants off, he was now ahead of her in disrobing and was about to remind her of that fact when she leaned in and nuzzled his still cotton covered erection.

He almost came right there and then.

Sucking in a breath on a gasp he swayed back. Carol's hands went to the points of his hips to steady him, her thumbs slipping under the waistband of his briefs as his hands came down over hers. Together they lowered them, letting his cock spring free, so hard it pointed straight upwards like an arrow.

When she rubbed her downy cheek against him and then pressed a kiss to the tip, licking off the pearl of fluid there, he knew she'd take care of him like this too, and he couldn't have that.

Daryl grasped her shoulders and pulled her up. When she was on her feet he put his arms around her and just held her in a careful hug, pressing a closed mouth kiss to her bared shoulder.

Carol's hands gripped his nape, tangling in the long hair there, hanging on tight. When Daryl continued the kisses up the line of her neck to her jaw she turned to him and their lips met again, at first delicate, soft small kisses that soon turned hungry, tongues searching and sliding against each other.

Daryl turned them so his back was to the bed and he sat, bringing her with him, standing her between his thighs, helping her strip off her jeans. Carol raised one leg and then the other, her hands gripping his shoulders as he leaned in to draw them down off her hips, bringing her underwear along for the ride over her ass and her long slender legs. When she was free of them he let his hands wander the same path back up, feeling drunk on the freedom to finally touch her like this.

Goosebumps blossomed on her skin when his thumbs circled the backs of her knees and then trailed up to the tops of her thighs, lingering there.

Carol held her breath in anticipation of where his hands would go next, but he surprised her by lifting them to the clasp of her bra to deftly unhook it and pull it off, baring the rest of her. Then he grinned, pleased with himself, staring in awe at the slight bounce of her breasts as they were freed before raising his hands to cradle them, a creamy handful each.

He felt her gaze on him and lifted his eyes to hers and saw her indulgent smile of amusement at his single minded focus.

Daryl raised a brow at her. She had great tits; now that he finally got the chance to see them; he was going to _enjoy._

He rubbed both rough skinned thumbs over her nipples until they peaked and then he leisurely bent his head to lick and suck the right one into his mouth. The left he pinched between his thumb and index finger.

" _Oh._ Oh. _God_." she gave a quick little gasp and swayed towards him, the sharp spike of sensation seeming to shock her with its intensity, making her fingers dig into the muscles of his shoulders.

Daryl released the nipple with a pop, looked up at her and grinned again, this time a bit smugly, then leaned back in and accorded the left nipple the same treatment while his right hand smoothed down over her rib cage to the rounded curve of her soft belly. Feeling it pleased him, knowing she'd not been half starved on the road again, that she'd been safe here, had food and shelter, people who cared... The Kingdom ruler and his knights had shown up on her doorstep with gifts as Daryl watched, but she'd sent the King away, like a princess in her tower, aloof and untouchable.

But she'd welcomed _him_ — welcomed _his_ touch—held _him_ in her arms and wept in happiness—and now they were here, where they'd never been before.

His hand continued lower.

" _Oh!"_

Fuck. She was like heated satin inside, his fingers easily sliding through her slick folds, continuing a slow steady circling with his thumb while pressing inside, filling her, pressing deep with two fingers.

" _Ohhhh!"_

He felt her buck against him, hands clutching at him, holding him closer, her fingernails digging into his shoulders.

He needed this, to give her this, to make her feel this way, to take away some of her sorrow and darkness, at least for a little while.

One of Carol's hands slid up to his nape, winding in his hair, giving it a sharp tug and he raised his head to look at her.

" _With_ me." she said, demanding he share this pleasure with her. That was her, always giving...

"Not yet." he shook his head and then slid his fingers from her to bring them to his mouth, sucking them inside with a low groan of pleasure and anticipation, his eyes narrowing to slits.

Carol blushed and her pupils blew wide.

Daryl put both hands on her waist to lift her onto the bed beside him, leaning down to kiss her again, her own taste on his lips. He continued touching, tasting all of her, chasing each freckle, finding all of her sweet spots, behind her ears, nibbling and licking the line of her collarbones, back her breasts again, sucking on her belly and then moving lower, remembering how she'd once teased him hard with the idea atop a prison bus.

He'd never tasted anything so good. Her pussy was sweet and tart, sleek against his rough touch holding her open for the flat of his tongue laving over the swollen bud at the top. Then he licked the entire length of her, lapping at the flood of nectar spilling from her coating his lips and bearded chin, plunging his tongue inside over and over.

Only after she was done crying his name and arching up into his mouth in ecstasy three times did he move to join with her. She laid there, eyes closed, panting, beautifully disheveled and still flushed almost all over.

"Look at me." Daryl said in soft command.

Carol whimpered but did as he asked.

Daryl saw so much love in her eyes he found it hard to take his next breath.

Carol reached up and pulled him in for more kisses and Daryl wrapped his arms around her petite but strong softness, holding her as close as possible, drowning in their passion.

In a move that surprised her, he rolled them until she was on top, straddling his hips.

"Take me." he asked her, letting her be the one to merge their bodies, giving her that control.

Carol leaned closer, one hand braced on his broad shoulder; the other pushed the long hair off his face so she could look into his eyes, straight into his heart, his soul. She sat up straighter, her hands moving down his body, pausing to caress and explore, tracing the tattoos she found, worrying his tight little nipples until he bucked up his hips to hurry her along, but she kept up her slow deliberate tender torture.

Then she finally moved lower, smoothing over his abs. His cock rose up to almost his navel and when the slender fingers of her right hand closed around the shaft as far as they could go he grunted out the breath he'd been holding. Holding him still, at just the right angle, she lifted up and over him, rising to her knees, fitting the broad head to her welcoming heat and in one graceful move, slid down until it was inside her.

Daryl groaned low in his chest at the feel of her, so tight and yet welcoming, but when he saw her mouth come open on a gasp, tears springing to her eyes, his hands went to her hips to support her weight, stopping her.

" _You okay?"_ he asked, his voice and eyes soft and concerned.

Carol nodded and lifted her left hand to cover his right one on her hip, squeezing it slowly.

Daryl got the message, slackening his hold by slow degrees, letting her control how fast their bodies merged, giving her time to adjust, watching it play across her face, looking for signs of discomfort. He lifted one hand to toy with her breast, and then traced down her center line to find her clit. A few gentle strokes later, he felt her go more liquid around him and she took more of his length with a murmur of praise.

" _So good, Daryl."_

With one last sinuous movement she lifted her right hand, releasing her grip on him, letting herself push down on him until he was fully seated. Her fingers dug in to his hips, nails biting in, making him hiss and thicken further.

Part of him felt a flush of pride that he filled her so well—he wanted to please her, make it better for her than—no, he wouldn't go there, the past was the past. There was no one before or after that mattered, this was them, now.

Part of him couldn't believe this was really happening.

They were both smiling, staring into each other's eyes, holding completely still, letting the moment wash over them. Then by what felt like mutual assent they both began to move. He circled and stroked her while she rose up and then back down on him, both gradually increasing the rate.

" _I need your weight on me."_ Carol quietly asked, tugging on his right hip and leaning to the same side.

Daryl hesitated. He had been careful with her so far; hadn't wanted her to feel trapped or overwhelmed so had deliberately chosen to put her astride him, recognizing the control it gave her... but maybe she didn't want to have to be in control. Maybe she needed to let go of that control?

Daryl obeyed and shifted their positions so he was above her, still thick and needy inside her, held up by his powerful arms.

Carol lifted her legs, locking them around his thighs and drew his face down for a kiss, pulling hard on his hair and sighing in contentment when he leaned in to ravage her mouth at the same time he surged in, hard, his belly slapping against hers in an ever increasing but irregular rhythm—shallow fast thrusts punctuated by slow and deep ones—never letting her know what was coming next.

Her hands went to his shoulders and down his back, delicate now, lingering over his scars, and then urging him closer so his chest brushed and teased the tips of her breasts with each thrust. He buried his face in her shoulder, kissing her there, his mouth open over her rapid pulse.

" _Carol..."_ he was on the edge, ready to fall off, but he wanted her with him. He reached down and lifted her leg, changing the angle of his thrusts until he hit that place deep inside her he'd been searching for.

" _There!"_ she told him, _"Oh god...Daryl...there...there...there!"_

She tightened around him, gripping at his shoulder blades, back arching, coming around him, over him, through him, her cries driving him to keep thrusting through her orgasm, bringing on his own.

After, they slept in each other's arms while day turned to night.

* * *

Daryl awoke to darkness, an empty bed and the familiar smells of wood smoke and squirrel stew. As he pulled on his clothes he realized that she'd changed his shoulder dressing while he slept. He hadn't slept deeply enough to allow something like that in as long as he could remember.

When came out into the main room her saw her sitting on the hearth tending a pot over the fire, adding herbs. She was wearing the same clothes she'd had on earlier, her trench knife back in place, the only difference, her hair was a little mussed, finger tousled. His fingers...

"Have a seat. Dinner will be ready in a little bit—we even have cobbler for dessert." Carol said, smiling brightly... too brightly... and nodding towards the table which was set with two bowls.

Daryl stood for a long minute, watching her. He wanted to go to her, pull her up and carry her back into the bedroom, but she looked breakable, fragile now. He crossed the room to the table and sat with his back to the wall, at the head of the table, watching her. Over his right shoulder hung a painting of white roses and in addition to the hearth, the room was lit by candles, some in sconces and others on the table. It was a warm intimate setting.

Carol turned back to the pot and then set down the spoon and just stared into the fire as it snapped and crackled.

"I couldn't lose any one. I couldn't lose any of them." she paused, more emotional, "I couldn't lose _you_." then she looked over her shoulder at him, her face wet.

He realized she was finally answering the question he'd asked her out on the porch: _Why'd you go?_

When he didn't speak she continued.

"I couldn't kill them." she looked away and then back at him, "I could... I would... if they hurt any of our people, any more of them... it's what I would do..." she looked back at the burning fire consuming the wood, "...and then there wouldn't be anything left of me after that." she stared into the flames. "The Saviors, did they come?"

Daryl thought back on the conversation he'd had with Morgan this morning; when he'd told the man with bold assurance that if Carol knew about Abraham and Glenn she'd be leading the charge. But now her words haunted him, "... _and then there wouldn't be anything left of me after that..."_

"Yeah." he told her quietly.

Carol took a few seconds to digest that and he could see her gathering her resolve to continue her questions. She turned more towards him and rose up on her knees, her hands rubbing up and down on her thighs, her eyes troubled, mouth trembling.

"Did anyone get hurt?" she asked, "Is everybody okay?" her voice broke on that and she almost lost control, but she kept going, fighting the tears, "Did the Saviors..." and then she lost it, her hand going to her mouth to hold back the sob, forcing it back, a long in drawn breath became a sniffle while she struggled to continue. When she could speak, she sounded afraid of hearing what his answer would be, "Is everybody back home okay?"

Daryl sat and stared at her, the strongest person he knew, on the verge of breaking down.

This was why she left, why she had to go. "... _and then there wouldn't be anything left of me after that..."_

She watched him, shifting uneasily, tears starting to come unbidden until she broke and said his name as a plea to answer her, wiping at her tears.

"They came." Daryl said slowly, the loving lies forming on his lips, "We got 'em all. Made a deal with the rest of them, like Ezekiel." he heard her let out the breath she'd been holding and forged ahead, "Everyone's all right." he said. When she gave a great sigh of relief he repeated the assurance she needed, "Everyone's all right."

Carol wiped at her face, trying to clear it of her tears, sniffling, embarrassed in her relief, smiling at him at the same time.

Almost overcome with emotion Daryl grunted to clear his throat and banged his hand on the table.

"Uh—we gonna eat, or—I gotta be a king or somethin' to get food around here?" he teased her, needing to keep that smile on her face.

She actually let out a little chuckle, telling him to "Shut up." as she turned back to the fire, but then smiled again to let him know she knew he was teasing her.

Carol pulled the pot from the fire and brought it to the table, sitting down next to him.

"Ezekiel... is he okay?" Daryl asked. If he was leaving her here, he needed to know what kind of man her guardian—the man Richard had called someone who cared about her—was; and also if he was to be trusted in their negotiations. He valued her opinions.

"Yeah, I think he is." Carol told him, sounding a bit surprised at her own assessment, ladling stew into his bowl and sitting it down in front of him. She smiled watching him eat when instead of his fingers he actually used the spoon she'd laid out.

Daryl ate three bowls of the stew to her one and then half the cobbler, which she admitted she hadn't made. She apologized for not having coffee and he declined tea.

When all of the food was gone he stood.

He wanted her to ask him to stay, but knew she wouldn't.

He wanted to ask her to come with him, but knew she couldn't.

He gathered his backpack and put it on, picked up his crossbow and rifle, walked past the open bedroom door and grabbed the porch door knob, pulling it open and walking through.

Carol stood in the open doorway watching him go.

Neither of them spoke, but he felt her eyes on him and turned back to look at her, silhouetted in the candlelight. She put her hands in her pockets to keep from reaching for him, beckoning him back, trying to smile, to let him go without guilt or regret.

Daryl stood looking at her and then it was like a wave pushed him back to her, the tide coming in drawn by the moon as she glowed gold and silver.

He held her one last time, pressing his lips to her shoulder, breathing her in, locking what they had done together today tightly away in his heart or he would never be able to leave her, to go do what needed to be done so they might have a chance to be together someday.

"Watch out for yourself, all right?" he ordered, thinking of Richard's threats, of her alone away from the Kingdom; of how strong and fragile she was all at the same time.

Carol nodded and he felt her eyes on him as he turned and walked away, forcing himself to keep going forward when all he wanted to do was go back to her.

It hurt to hold her because he had to let go.

* * *

Later by the tiger's cage when Morgan told him he was holding on to something Daryl denied it, but he knew it was true.

Her name was Carol and he loved her. He'd give anything he had to protect her, even lies. She kept him clinging to the edge of the end of the world.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading!_

 _Working on my WIPs as well, I promise!_


End file.
